


You're Hideous and Sexy

by covertCalligrapher



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fill, I Don't Even Know, hawt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covertCalligrapher/pseuds/covertCalligrapher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a request for caligulinous Roxy x Jade by cincosechzehn. And that's exactly what it is. I hope I have appeased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Hideous and Sexy

Roxy Lalonde was not someone you had ever expected to feel this way about. The fun, older sister of one of your best friends squeezing these emotions from you just wasn't something you took lightly. She was just so beautiful, having a full three years on you to grow into a body that made you frustrated to look at, think about, _imagine_.

She was so lovely, so much like Rose and yet not. Rose was tall and willowy, only 15 just as you are. But Roxy. _Roxy._ Roxy was tall and curvy and _smart._ So smart, it was such a shame to waste such a beautiful mind on a bottle of vodka. When Roxy wasn't sauced she was perfect, brains and beauty wrapped into a lithe blonde package just ready for you to--

“Jade!” John says, frantically waving his hand in front of your face. You start out of your trance, your hand paused over Roxy's neck and your face burns.

“John, I was thinking, I'm the brains of this operation!” you exclaim, wiping your hand over your forehead, feeling exceptionally warm.

John's face inched towards incredulous. “Your face was so red, we coulda used your cheeks to boil the samples instead of the burners.”

You snort. “Shows the fuck all you know about true science, we could never get these to the proper temperature without an open flame,” you condescend at him, rearranging your numerous beakers and vials more for something to occupy your hands and mind with instead of an actual need for it.

“If all I know about science is fuck, then why'd you team up with me,” John deadpans, directing his gaze away from your red face clashing comically with your green eyes to the book of chemicals and their proper uses you gave him to prevent him causing sterility in himself or something.

Then again, do you really want this numbskull reproducing?

“Because your chemistry grade is so low, it's probably a better burner than my face considering how close it is to the center of the Earth. Which is molten, in case you can't uncram your head from your ass long enough to learn some basic things about the world and how it fucking functions!” Your voice rises the whole way through, finally ending in a shout as you slam your hands down on your kitchen table and stand.

John looks at you and his expression softens. “Trouble with the love life again?”

You sigh and sit back down. “Sorry, I just can't. There is nothing left for me to 'can' about. I am all out of 'cans.' There's a crisis going on right now because all of the 'cans' there are not.” Your head falls into your hands as you huff forlornly into them.

John brings an arm up to your back, patting you awkwardly. “I'm sure your weird hate crush will work out in the end. And hey, if it doesn't, you could always just kill her with the horrifying amounts of poisonous chemicals you seem to have in your house regularly.”

You smile and laugh, pressing down your frustration to deal with later, probably tonight. “It wouldn't take much,” you say, grinning and picking various pesticides, bactericides, miticides, and rodenticides to use in your experiment. “Only a few drops of any of these could kill a horse.”

John looks at you, seeming slightly scared. “Neigh,” he states, following you as you leave the room and descend into your basement laboratory.

* * *

 

“Tell me again why you teamed up with Jake, Roxy. The boy can't handle Drain-o without getting chemical burns,” Rose asks you as you fiddle with the inner workings of your science project. First place is a few choice points of extra credit in your science class of particular fancy. It is also a choice place in the heart a particular wonderful 15 year-old with buck teeth and circular glasses.

“You'll undershtand when you're older, sister,” you hum at your younger sibling as you reach for a wrench. Jake happens to dwell in the same... dwelling as the particular science lass of your fancy.

“I'm old enough to see what you're trying to do here,” Rose says lowly into your ear, suddenly next to you. You can feel the smirk in her words as they puff past your ear and you smile, your eyes half-lidded and turn to her.

You speak through the pleasant buzz you have behind your eyes and the lazy smile pulling your lips across your face. “Can you get me a refill?” you ask, gesturing with your chin slightly to the woefully empty and lonely-looking martini glass by the windowsill.

Rose pushes away from you and snorts. “I saw _that_ coming from a mile away, _sis.”_ Nonetheless of her pissing and moaning, she grabs the glass to go and refill it.

Or fill it with gasolene. But in your current inebriated state, you wouldn't really notice. It's all ethanol, anyway.

Your mind wanders to the science lass. So short and skinny, her body just beginning to fill in but still full of sharp edges and elbows. You've just been so enamoured by her ever since she pushed her way into your AP chemistry class. Sophomores aren't even allowed to take any APs, let alone excel in them. Maybe that's where your feelings of lust coloured with black came from. Someone so young and related to someone so low on the mental evolution chain doing so much better than you in a class you were born to take just twisted you in the right places and in the right _ways_.

You bit your lip and sighed as you thought about the rage that would consume the little Harley as she lost the science fair right before her very eyes. The burning hatred reflecting in the shiny metal of the pin and ribbon combo she surely thought should belong to you. The suggestive winks and flirty pursing of your lips you would be tossing at her left and right, completely bombarding her as you floated past, displaying your and her brother's project proudly to the crowd of your waiting fans, desperate for a speech on how easy it was to win, only for you to laugh it off and say how much hard work it took to be as fab as you are.

“Oh, it was nothing but long hours and rigorous work schedules,” you would say, a tittering laugh falling from your inebriated lips as you fanned yourself, Jake standing next to you and doing what he was born to do; looking pretty.

And you would scan the crowd of admiration and glee for the light reflecting off the massive pair of glasses and equally massive teeth for the girl with the glowing, lovely eyes. Those eyes you would make eye contact with and give a suggestive eye-brow wiggle too.

And then the two of you would abscond the shit out of there and go make some sexy-times in the closet down the hall.

Before you can get to that particularly juicy tidbit of your imagination, Rose returns with your glass of ethanol. She hands it to you and you sniff it, still unsure whether or not it came from a metal tank or a glass bottle.

But you say fuck it and knock that sucker back. You live life dangerously with just a hint of your aforementioned sexyness. You're a girl on edge and you can't be tammed

*Tameed.

*Fuck it.

* * *

 

You're sitting in your chem class, ready for another day's worth of notes and equations and chemical structures when _she_ flops into the room. It's so obvious she's already plastered firmly to the wall at, you check the time, 9:30 AM! Fucking waste of a mind, killing herself, more importantly those precious brain cells are marinating and drowning in the heady shit her brain is probably suspended in instead of cerebral fluid.

She sits in the seat behind you as usual. She reeks of Grey Goose and lipgloss. You breathe in more deeply than you intended to to try and distinguish the particular kind of lipgloss used and your eyes water from the cough-syrup smell of vodka floating in the space around her. The cloud of alchol fumes begins to envelope you as well as the teacher walks in and begins his lesson.

“Alright class,” Doctor Scratch says, getting the class' attention. “Today will be a review day for the test tomorrow, which I expect you all to pass with colours flying so high, they make a rainbow.”

You smile to yourself, _oh you are going to own this shit._

“Alright, let's try a painfully easy one,” your teacher begins, clearing his throat. “What four elements are the basis for all organic life?”

Your arm shoots up faster than a bullet. He does not call on you, instead calling on the girl behind you.

“Carbon, nitrogen, hydrogen, and oxygen,” Roxy drawls smoothly and you want to smack the sure-to-be-there smile of her perfect face. She's so intoxicated right now, she probably doesn't even have those elements in her anymore, instead replaced by the components of liqour.

“Good to know you kids have a pulse. Next: what is used to measure the atomic weight of atoms in organic chemistry?”

Your hands flies so fast, it would have gone straight through the ceiling were it not attached to your shoulder and, by extension, the rest of you. He calls on you, “The dalton,” you answer excitedly, so sure your answer is correct, you look behind at Roxy to see her reaction to your impeccable answering skills.

She is unfazed, her face still glossy, a slight smile on her face as she looks through you. You hate her for not being frustrated at your correctness so much you consider murdering her for only a second before the teacher grabs your attention with his next question.

“When carbons forms bonds with four other atoms, what is this formation called and what is the bond angle?”

You think for a second too much and so the answer goes to someone across the room. “A tetravalence formation with a...” the boy trails off, his face creasing as he tries to remember the way the atoms arrange themselves.

You mentally scoff at his ignorance and raise your arm proudly only to have the answer snapped up by the blonde inebriate behind you.

“109.5 degrees,” Roxy drawls and you want to jam your thumbs into her eyeballs or your tongue down her throat, you're not particularly choosy about which one.

“Correct, Ms. Lalonde. What is the chemical formula for urea?” He looks apathetically at the sheet on his desk.

You don't even bother raising your hand, just blurting out the answer as it fires itself into your head. “C-O-open-parenthesis-N-H-sub-two-close-parenthesis-squared!” you shoot out, breathless.

Doc Scratch just looks at you before acquiescing that you are indeed correct, but you should raise your hand next time.

The rest of the class period goes like this until you are ready to tear your head out of your scalp or her scalp or crush her face against yours until you're more repulsed by her toxic aroma than ever and you want to scream and cry and you're so keyed up you're practically shaking and you scream when the bell rings.

You can't tell whether or not you want to kill Roxy through strangulation before after you tackle her to the ground and rip everything off of her, including that smug, lazy smile her perfect lips seem to always be molded into.

You stalk around the rest of the day, screeching at everyone who talks to you which only makes John run away and Dave ask what has your panties in a twist. Your panties are currently so twisted, you can't even begin to articulate the formation and the cause of their current knotted state.

So you just cry, so frustrated that she doesn't even have the decency to hate you back. Oh but the science fair. _The science fair._ That'll wipe the smug, lazy look off her face and maybe she'll see you as a worthy adversary and not just some kid who knows a lot of chemistry and tries too hard.

You picture it in your head as you fall asleep that night. You demonstration on the hazards of improper conduct in the laboratory impresses the judges so much, they not only award you first place, they make your demonstration into a video on lab safety which is required to be shown in every classroom thereafter.

Roxy will be so impressed by your expertise in keeping not only yourself, but others as well, safe, that she finally realizes that you are perfect and she tackles you into the floor of the janitor's closet down the hall from the school's auditorium. And then the two of you proceed to do horrid things to each other which keeps you wide awake and unable to sleep.

Soon, you disgusting, beautiful person.

_Soon._

* * *

 

Ahh yes, the day if the science fair. Your lovely lab assistant stands with you next to your machine of marvels. It is designed to, when the proper components are poured into the proper shunts, begin the process of combining the fatty acids and the ethylene esters into biodeisel. You should be getting a Nobel prize for this shit, but you'll settle for a ribbon and buck teeth. Lovely buck teeth behind lovely lips in a lovely science lass who you seem to see has concocted a simple chemical experiment for demostration. _Elementary._

Her lab assistant is the awkward and obviously in the throws of puberty, John Egbert. Poor baby hardly has any idea what he's doing, and he (nor you) is missing the glances Jade throws at you. She probably thinks she's being sneaky with her obvious hate and attraction to you. It's cute, so young and innocent and you just want to run to the janitor's closet with her now. But you just need the satisfaction of beating her and seeing her face.

You impress the judges with your witty repartee and when they walk off you are sure you have this competition in the sack. And soon you'll have something else in the sack, too.

You watch as they approach the judging table. Jake is looked with anticipation at the table an he elbows you. “We have this so locked down, it's ridiculous.”

“I agree,” you whisper loudly to him. “It is reduculuis how locked dowen all of thish is.”

“Alright,” the judge begins. He gives a speech about how proud you all should be of your work, how wonderful all the contestants were and such. _Just announce that I won,_ you think to yourself.

“In third place, we have Jade Harley and John Egbert with their experimentation on lab safety!” the judge announces, clapping along with the crowd. Jade looks like a bulldozer has just smacked her but John manages to drag her up the stairs to receive their trophy and certificate declaring that yes, they did indeed try.

Poor baby, you can't wait to win and wipe that frown off her face with your own.

“In second place, we have Roxy Lalonde and Jake Harley with their biodesiel conversion unit.”

The judge claps for you, and you can't help the frown that fall on your face as Jake whoops and runs to grab the trophy and your “you tried” certification. You stand next to Jade at the winner's table and she stares at you so hard you can practically feel then cutting you apart.

“And our first prize winners are Dirk and Dave Strider, with their--” you don't even hear the rest. You don't pay attention and instead lean down to Jade. You technically did beat her, so your plan is still ago.

“Want to go and sex up in the janitor's closet?” you whisper loudly to her and she look at you with narrowed eyes before turning to John and thrusting the trophy into his hands.

She grabs your hand and runs with you from the auditorium straight to the closet, which is wonderfuflly unlocked. She shoves you in and locks it before pouncing on you.

Not a single fuck was given for the rest of the day, excluding the one happening next to the bottles of Windex and Comet.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post on tumblr asking for this and it was too perfect, how could I not?
> 
> Leave a comment or a kudos or one or both of those two things, preferably both.  
> Tell me how I lesbian'd.
> 
> Stay golden.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, fuck chem. Why am I even taking it?


End file.
